


Joyride

by Bluerose161



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Adult Dipper Pines, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gang World, Alternate Universe - No Powers, And now It won't leave my head, Bank Robbery, Bill Cipher Being Bill Cipher, Bill Cipher is a Jerk, Business, Dark Dipper Pines, Dealfic, Death Threats, Dipper Pines Being A Jerk, Dipper Pines is Called Mason, Don't Try This At Home, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fast Cars, Guns, Homophobia, Human Bill Cipher, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I was given this prompt, Kleptomania, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Reverse Dipper Pines, Rich Dipper Gleeful, Stealing, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Threats of Violence, Violence, energy drinks, must expel this demon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:47:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22740478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluerose161/pseuds/Bluerose161
Summary: They met on a dating app but really, he was looking for a getaway driver for a bank robbery.
Relationships: Bill Cipher & Dipper Gleeful | Reverse Dipper Pines, Bill Cipher/Dipper Gleeful | Reverse Dipper Pines, Mabel Gleeful | Reverse Mabel Pines/Will Cipher | Reverse Bill Cipher
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

The tires of the car screeched harshly on the concrete streets, making the driver grit his teeth harshly before stepping harder on the gas, letting the purr of the strong engine keep pushing them further and further away from the crime scene. Sounds of screaming sirens filled his ears in a harsh crescendo, and every traffic law around him told him that he had to pull over and address the cops. But, with a delinquent blonde robber in his passenger, with a large duffle bag resting on his lap, and adrenaline stirring his head into a frenzy, he kept his foot on the gas. 

Oregon's greenery was zipping past them in ranges of colors of emerald, pink, and purple. The cars he had to dodge to get ahead came in a range of colors, shapes, and different types of wear and tear. All of them were aged, some having a mustang to show off a level of wealth, but none like the car that Mason Gleeful was driving. He had just gotten it from the dealership yesterday, and already he was fucking up his breaks, wearing down the tires, and possibly getting muck on the perfect car. He was lucky he hadn't had the plate installed just yet, the cops couldn't run it through the system and catch him later on for what he was pulling for a man he had just met. 

"Take a left," the blonde spoke, his voice abnormally calm for such a situation. Even then, the brunet could make out the grin in his voice, the level of exhilaration that must be turning in his gut, pounding in his heart, and smashing into his skull. God, once he got out of this, he was going to slap that man in his passenger seat. He let go of the gas and put his right hand on the stick shift, turning it until he heard the click it and turning the wheel as hard as he could. The turn was seamless, even with the tires letting out another scream from the stress of stone. 

This wasn't how things were meant to go at all. To start off, the two had met on a dating app, Tinder to be exact. Mason was looking for some hot guy to take to his parent's party, that was coming up next month. Ever since he had come out as gay in High school, the bastards had become the epitome of a gorilla dick shoved up the ass with zero prep. 

The fuckers had disowned him, and he was even lucky to get their extremely wealthy company, simply through a contract they had prepared when he was in Middle School that they couldn't get out of when planning retirement. The two loved to excessively bash him, they were the reason he no longer had connections with his twin sister, who was raised with those dumb homophobic ideologies and ultimately pushed away. His great uncles were the only ones to really stick around through the chaos, but that hatred to the bastards who now despised him simply for not liking tits still stayed strong in his veins. 

So, what better than to get back at them? Instead of becoming a running joke for their party, he could bring a nice hot guy to have an arm over his shoulder. He could be smug as hell, let them believe their twink-ass son was getting dicked down on the daily, and let them become the laughing stock. That's why he joined Tinder, get to know someone for a month until the party, and then drop them once he got the satisfaction of rubbing it all in that he got their powerful company through their retirement, and was still a raging homo who took cock up the ass. 

It was the perfect plan. 

Well, it _was_ the perfect plan. 

Instead, he got this, a possible arrest from being run-in with a law, a criminal in his car, and having to zip through roads and listen to the directions that the blond provided.

The man in his passenger was Bill Cipher, someone who he had met on the app. It was mainly the attraction of his face and body that had Mason swiping right on his profile. Strong, chiseled features, all sharp contours of the face that came out angular and powerful. It screamed masculinity, with dyed blonde hair that barely revealed the original color of black at the roots. Tan, built muscles that seemed to ripple out in any shirt, no matter how tight or loose in the photos, with black ink of different symbols trailing up his arms and back. He seemed conversational, considering most of the excess photos in his profile were him with friends and different places around Oregon, having fun and living life. He had piercings on his ears, eyebrow, and septum in his nose. It seemed like the rebellious, good for nothing that his parents would fear he fall into. 

He barely even processed when they scheduled a time to meet in front of a bank, mainly because Cipher had written in his profile that he was an accountant working there. He should've known better, investigated further, maybe he wouldn't be caught in this mess if he had. 

In the rearview mirror, he could see the flashing, overly saturated colors of red and blue nearing him. He cursed underneath his breath, unsatisfied with the fact that the black and white cruisers were managing to catch up to him. It was almost insulting in such a fast car. Though, he knew these streets better than any of those officers could comprehend. They were once his home when his parents first kicked him out, they were where he learned to drive cars, motorcycles, and more from his great uncle's dealership. They had no clue of all the little secret passageways that Gravity Falls truly had. 

"Hold on tight," he stated, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Cipher hold the grab handle, he shifted the stickshift again and took another harsh turn, needing to change it again midway to steady the car. The car had turned right into a narrow alleyway. It was sleek enough to fit through just barely, and the bulky police cruisers had to slam on the break, working on turning to try and meet them on the other side. They really didn't know the streets as he had. 

The alleyway was its own form of cave passageways, an endless spectrum between resturants, apartment complexes, and stores. The car had times of being shaded from the sun by the tall buildings, sun flickering in and out of the space as the car continued to seamlessly gas through the maze. It was easy to navigate for someone who knew the alleyways well, and soon enough he was halfway across the city of Downtown with no cruisers insight.

The man beside him whistled, clearly impressed, but aside from that silent in his seat. Mason continued to drive, going onto the Freeway to stay at the fast speed he was at, with Cipher beside him telling him what exit to get off of, what turns to take, and what he needed to do to get to the destination. 

At the end of it all, the brunet had rolled up onto an old, secluded factory in the woods. It no longer ran, and now was a warehouse for criminals alike to flourish without officers to spy in on their work. The fence that once was there was torn down, the road becoming bumpy in favor of the dirt roads and some of the fallen branches from the over amounting pine trees in the area. The front of the factory was worn down for its age, with tarp concealing the wide windows and rotting wood to block off any exits Cipher didn't seem to use. 

Once they stopped, Mason went slack in his seat, hands resting at the bottom of his steering wheel. He could hear his heart hammering in his ears, his stomach was still wound tight and sweat was built up in his palms. Even with the AC running, he felt like he had just run a marathon in the hot sun, and he was stunned while staring off at the worn building. 

About five people walked out of the front door, all in different shapes and faces. There was one main bulky man, covered in ink with different styles, with a tattoo of an eight-ball on each of his fists. A few others stood, all seeming to blend in with each other. One had an onslaught of keys hanging from their waist, seeming to be for everything they could possibly collect. The one that stuck out the most was a woman, seeming to be the only one in the group. She had bright pink hair and full lips, wearing a lot of pink with a set of hooker boots. 

Cipher unbuckled his seatbelt, giving Mason a pat on the shoulder "Thanks for the ride," he said, before opening the car door and getting out, slamming it shut behind him. He went to go and meet up with the rest, and the brunet just knew he had such a satisfied smirk on his face. 

Oh, fuck no. 

This was _not_ how this was going to end. He was goddamn Mason Gleeful, owner of one of the biggest companies for fashion that sold internationally. He wasn't going to be some gangsters fucking bitch ride and let that be it. **No one** uses him like that. 

In quick haste, he tore off his seatbelt, shoving the door open and slamming it behind in a rush. The adrenaline was still flooding his veins, and he wasn't going to waste it. The group was turning to leave, and he yelled "HEY, FUCKHEAD!" to gain their attention. The delinquents of the streets stopped immediately, and the blonde was the one to turn around, eyes tense once they looked over the brunet. 

"Just who the hell do you think you are!?" He walked forward until he was in front of the tall blond, giving a harsh swing right across his face. The blonde's head was the only thing to move in reaction, before straightening back with a narrow glare. His hand stung after, but he wasn't going to show any form of weakness "You think you can just fucking use me for my car and pull a fucking heist like that? You don't think I'll call the police on your ass and get you arrested? You seriously fucking think that you can thank me for a ride and that'll be it!?" Cipher had a red mark clear on his face from Mason's palm, but he made no move of showing any pain, he actually grinned to it. 

"I think I'm Bill Cipher, a criminal in a gang. And, I don't think you'll be calling the police, afterall, you were the getaway driver. You'd just incriminate yourself, Gleeful. Now, go run back to your big ass company and stay out of my way." the group gave a sharp laugh to the commentary to their boss, but Mason just narrowed his eyes further, glaring down into the molten gold that the blond seemed to possess. 

"Oh yeah? I can always tell them I was threatened to drive or you'd kill me. Who do you think they'll believe? The criminal or the victim?" the groups laughing fell silent, and it seemed in the blink of an eye a handgun was hovering over his forehead. When Mason looked up at the gun, it was all gold, which seems to be an old model with a revolver that stuck out. The caliber itself was triangular, most likely needing personalized bullets to go through the chute. It was sturdy and looked powerful even for such a tool. 

Cipher held the weapon nonchalantly, a grin still resting on his face "I could always bust your brains out, hide your body, no one would remember you once your company gets a new CEO. No one would care if a bratty, selfish little kid like you left this world. This bullet could go right in between that dumb birthmark too." the air was filled with a pregnant silence, the blond's followers not making any snide sounds or comments. It was tense, and neither the brunet or blond were backing down. 

Mason laughed, sharp and tense, even with such a situation, he was just as snide, as cocky, as devious."Well, that's not the only safety measure I have for myself. I do run a reputable company, and people wanting to kill me isn't exactly new. I have a chip implanted in my body, and I'm not going to tell you where. That chip monitors my vitals, heart rate, sugar intake, the whole thing. If my heart rate goes below my averages from my medical files for more than thirty seconds, then my personalized security, ambulance, fire department, and police will immediately come to my location, which shows in the chip. So, please," he took a step forward, pressing the cold steel of the triangle caliber firmly against his forehead. Hooded lashes masked parts of his vision as he looked up at the gangster, and he kept that grin on his face. 

"Shoot me." 

The air was tense, and Mason was sure if he did get shot, the bullet would be able to cut through the air just like it could go clean into his skull. The staring contest continued, and Cipher did for a second tighten his grip on the weapon, pressing it harder against Mason's forehead before scoffing and putting it back in its holster. He straightened his back, looking the brunet up and down before crossing his arms, head cocking back. With a snap of his fingers, one of the men took out a cigarette, putting it between the leader's lips and lighting it for him. 

He took a long drag of the cigarette, unfolding one of his arms to take it out of his mouth and hold it between two of his fingers "Alright, I'll bite. What do you want in return to keep your piehole shut?" Mason grinned in response, uncaring of the nicotine that flooded his nose when Bill blew it out and onto his face. He reframed from coughing, pushing back some of his hair and fixed the cuffs of his sleeves.

"Well, I want a date for my parents' dumb party. They like to call make fun of me for being a dick sucker, so I want the roughest, toughest fucking guy to come with me and let them think their son is a raging twink for big dick," Cipher snorted, taking another drag from the cancer stick and blowing it out into the air "Alright, and let's say I do become your date to that thing. What do I get in exchange?" Mason kept his eyes hard, even with the male becoming suddenly playful and at ease. 

"In exchange for going with me, I'll give you more little joyrides from your heists until the party. Once it passes, then we never need to see each other again. It's not every day you run into someone with my car, or knowledge of Gravity Fall's streets. I know lots of things, Cipher. I may be a businessman, but I started in the streets before taking my title in my family's company." 

The blonde looked to be thinking, the cogs in his head turning at a rapid rate. This was a good deal, there was no way he was going to refuse. He made a signal with his hand, turning around and immediately being surrounded by the rest of the delinquents. They whispered among themselves, sometimes peaking their heads up past the blond's bulky form to glance at Mason and make sure he wasn't able to listen in.

Soon enough, they hushed down and Cipher turned back around, a big cocky grin on his face as he took grasp of Mason's hand, shaking it firmly "Looks like you got yourself a deal, Macey." Mason shook his hand much more politely, letting go after a few seconds and scoffing "Don't give me pet nicknames, this is all just for business." he took out his business card from his dress pants, handing it to Cipher "I suggest you text me rather than use the app. I'll be deleting it now that I have my ginny pig for the event." 

Cipher read it over before pocketing it, flicking off some of the ashes from his cig before putting it back to hang on the corner of his lips "Right back at ya, Macey." he purred out defiantly before turning around, walking into the warehouse with the group, duffle bag in hand. The steel door shut tight, and the sound of locks being fastened and tightened echoed in the trees, before falling into the silence of birds chirping, and cicada's letting out a deafening buzz into the air. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another heist.

As Cipher entered the aged warehouse that he claimed his own, he couldn't help but let out a soft sigh of satisfaction. The hefty duffle bag is slung over his shoulder, the satisfying breaths of nicotine that filled his lungs and put his body into steady ease. His groupies giggled and snickered amongst themselves as they spread out to the other parts of the main area of the abandoned warehouse they called home.

Although the place was worn, the Henchmaniacs (the self-proclaimed name that Cipher gave them) had certainly brought a new life to it. The walls were repainted in a deep black, splatters of colors of the rainbow being put around the space for a bit of a contrast. Couches, a pool table, hockey table, and foosball were scattered about for entertainment. Stolen speakers were strewn about on aged bookcases and entertainment centers, with plenty of TV's, big and small, to deck out any area for people to enjoy some mind-numbing network. 

The duffle bag was dropped on the coffee table, and from there Cipher took a seat in his recliner, taking another long drag of the cigarette before flicking some of the ash away. He watched as Pyronica and Hector immediately went to start pulling out the thick stacks of cash, whilst Keyhole and Eight-ball began to play a game of pool not too far away. Bill took his time to dig into the cushion of the recliner to find the remote, leaning back until the chair popped back and let him rest his legs out. It was good to relax, especially with such a good hall from the bank. It was a close call to even get it all on his own, but considering the fact that he had told Mason it was their considered 'date', he had to go alone to not make the male more infuriated. 

Each person in the group had their own specialty of theft. Keyhole mainly did in-home robberies, hence where all the TV's, couches, and even the odd time of some entertainment center came in. Despite 8-balls tall and bulky stature, he was able to sneak around quite well. He was normally an unsettling kind of silent, who could sneak up on people in plain sight. So, midnight stealth missions in the more rich, high-security homes, and even grocery store robberies were where he got the bang for his buck. Hector did gas station robberies, and Pyronica and Cipher just did a little bit of everything.

Pyronica was normally the getaway driver, but they ended up totaling their last car in a high-speed chase, which included tucking and rolling out and letting the thing slam into a cafe. From there, they couldn't get it back, and it was Ciphers' job to find them a new getaway vehicle, hence why he joined Tinder. 

He was sure that there would be some twisted soul with a bit of kleptomania like the rest of them. Most of the time, there weren't any though. They did the drive out of the full adrenaline rush, and once it stopped most of them were paralyzed in their car, unspeaking and unmoving. They had to deal with the police, but with the easy threat of Ciphers gun to their forehead, they kept their mouthes nice and shut to not catch a cap. 

Well, for the most part, they had. 

And then, little sweet Mason Gleeful had to arrive. 

Cipher hadn't expected the male to be so forward, so angry, so alive. When he first saw his profile, he figured it was a godsend to be able to sit in the passenger of such a beautiful car, with an engine that purs and seats that warm up. And then the way he drove, it was oddly erotic. His face was so tense and dead, strong and powerful, with his jaw tightened and eyes baring ice into the cars ahead. Yet, his body moved with the vehicle. Each turn that he did, he would curve his torso to it, eyes narrowing and fingers flexing against the steering wheel. 

He looked like a corpse reanimated into something deadly, dark, sexy. It was a strange sense of adrenaline that built-in Bill's gut the longer he was in that car. Watching each movement, each furrow of the male's eyebrows, how shadows framed his face when they went through the maze of alleyways. 

That car seemed built for the male's short figure. Even if the blond hadn't noticed at the moment, he now could reply to the memory in his head in a loop and see that everything seemed in easy arms reach. His height wasn't much, and yet the seat was perfectly reclined, his feet had no trouble reaching the pedals, and his arm was able to relax while he manipulated the stick shift. 

It wasn't just the car that had the male enthralled. It was the fire, it burned in harsh blue flames in those glacier eyes the brunet possessed. Strong, determined, powerful, just like the way he drove. He took none of Ciphers threats seriously, and the chill that spiked up the male's spine when he stepped closer, let the cold end of the caliber press against his forehead. It was in the dead middle of the birthmark that rested on his head, the constellation of the Little Dipper. 

_Shoot me_

The grin on his face looked so pleasant, menacing, just _fuck_ was it something. He couldn't kill someone like that, with such a plan, with such resources, with such a face. Even if he tried, he knew it was a good call to keep him alive for now. He could go to that dumb banquet at the end of the month, then, and only then, would he kill the celebrity businessman that was Mason Gleeful. 

It was petty of Cipher, but when was he not? Sure, the brunet had put up quite a show, but Cipher was the one always reaching for the encore. He would get the last laugh, prove he wasn't one to be played or manipulated. He was the power here, even if Mason thought otherwise. For now, he would humor his request, use him for more of those thrilling car rides in passenger, and maybe get a shoddy fuck before he put a bullet in his head. 

It was the perfect plan. 

* * *

Forty-three times was that pen clicked.

Mason had counted each time his assistant beside him clicked down on the pen, pushing down the plunge as the ballpoint popped out the caliber before quickly retreating back. It was repetitive, and the most distracting thing in the room at that very moment for the CEO. It was hard to focus on what his Marketing head was saying at the front of the table, practically spouting gibberish while a laser pointer promptly pointed at each bullet on the screen with the different charts and graphs. 

_Click, click, click, click, click._

The incessant noise continued beside him, drilling into his ear. He could feel his the back of his skull letting out a thrum in sync, the damn noise was giving him a headache. He couldn't blame his assistant too harshly for the sound. The male beside him had raging anxiety, so meetings and company functions were not his forte. It was a natural human trait, which Mason had despised. The sounds of papers shuffling and cups being raised to promptly be sipped from joined along with sound, becoming part of an annoying acapella. 

William Cipher, the formerly mentioned assistant. He was a simple, sweet guy. Lanky, pale, tall, with raven black hair that normally hooded his eyes when he stared at papers for too long. As far as Mason was aware, he had no relations to Bill Cipher, but he was sure he would never get a true answer from the male, who would admit they were related to a criminal? 

He had worked at the company longer than Mason had been the CEO of it. It was through family connections, as he dated his sister, Mabel. When his sister and he were sophomores was when she landed her eyes across the freshman, and from there was she enthralled. His sweet demeanor was like a mouse to a snake, easy prey to feed off of like a leach. Though, his loyalty, kindness, and clumsy nature made his sister hold back her bite, and rather fall in love with the lug. 

At first, he was an intern, filling up coffees, faxing papers, and filing reports. He worked himself through the chain, mainly through his prospering relationship with Mabel, until he became his father's, right-hand man. If anything, Mason would've already fired him by now, his clumsy nature sometimes disorganized his things and only made his workload just a tad more taxing and annoying. Though he knew if he did then there would be an onslaught of calls from his family in protest, and he just didn't feel like dealing with that raging tidal wave.

_Click, click, click, click, click._

It continued up, with the sips, hums, and shuffling of papers to follow. It was going to drive Mason insane. He absolutely hated going to meetings, because he got to see how truly human his workforce was. Why would he sit here, listening to their annoying mumbles, pointless puns to lighten up all the information, when he could just read a memo? He much prefers to sit far away from this bullshit, up in his office in sweet silence, reading through exactly what they were trying to describe, with an audiobook playing as he worked. That was much better than sitting here, rotting in place with people that couldn't sit neatly still, hands folded, backs straight, and heads forward. They just had to shuffle, squirm, and do those little things that added to Mason's uncomfortableness. 

Promptly, he stood up and a wave of silence was quick to sweep across the room. He couldn't help but grin to it. All eyes were on him, worried, trained, intense. Their job was to please him, to keep him happy so they could gravel for parts of money, food, shelter. Everything they so required was at the palm of his hand. They needed to keep him satisfied. 

"I would like to stay here, but I have some other matters to attend to. William, be sure to jot down anything important for me and leave it at my desk for me to read later," normally, when Will was instructed and handed over some of the reigns of control, he got very serious. Calm, blue eyes settled into a determination, as he gave a sharp nod. He sat much like he had, back straight, head forward, and hands neatly folded. His eyes were determined, and with this surge of power, people knew he wasn't afraid to flex some of the authority when so required. 

Leaving that stuffy, dusty office just leads into another hell. A maze of cubicles sat ahead of him in his path, with the ringing of phones, voices to go along, and prompt steps. The sounds of the fax machine or printer buzzed on in the background, with the hums of heat from the machines as people grabbed the needed copies. More noise, more humanity, more annoyance. 

With a sigh, he folded his arms behind his back, walking forward to get to the elevator to take him back to his floor on top of the world. As he walked through, he couldn't help but glance along at some of the cubicles. In some, there were people hunched over, working vigorously at their computers with fingers flying across the keyboard. Stacks of papers sat across their desks, and even some of them on the floor, normally to either be faxed or shredded.

Some were on the phones, talking to customers with peppy, cheery voices to keep a good moral. Normally, his customer service was compromised in women, finding their voices much more steady and calm, seeming to take more shit without getting as irritated as some of the men could. This made it so the raging majority sat back, recently manicured nails tapping across the oak as the other hand rested on the mouse to click and check on orders. 

The rest were on their break, sipping coffee from paper cups and talking to other coworkers outside of cubicles. They normally wore smiles, telling jokes and hanging around the water coolers that were spread about so employees wouldn't forget to keep hydrated. When they noticed him, the smiles were practically smacked out, and they gave firm nods and straightened themselves, so they weren't loitering about in the middle of the walkways. 

He liked having that effect on people. 

When he got to the steel doors of the elevator, he was very pleased to see it empty. He could ride up to his floor with ease, without the worry of having to stand in silence with another employee that would probably shit their pants if he said a word to them. The inside of the elevator had a quartz design, something you'd see on a kitchen countertop. The marbling was accompanied by silver railings, and a deep, coarse carpet to go on the ground to withstand all the foot traffic without needing to be cleaned constantly. 

Mason stepped inside, letting the doors slide shut behind him. He took a deep breath before reaching forward, his hand hovering over the top floor before he felt a buzz against his thigh. Promptly, he pulled out his phone, unlocking the cellular and going to his texts. It was the most recent notification, and it came from the gang leader he had met last week. Bill Cipher. 

_Doing another heist, Macey. Be there in 20. Don't be late._

The address followed below the text, and he couldn't help but grit his teeth in some frustration. 

A part of him wanted to simply ignore the message. He could click the button to his floor and never look back. The bastard would get arrested and it would remove his problem before it even spiraled out of his control. If that were even possible, of course. On the other hand, Bill was exactly who he was looking for when it came to his parent's dumb party. The build, tattoos, piercings, it all would fit what he was trying to prove. He needed the man to enact his vengeance. 

Cipher was the definition of abnormality. Even in the text, he seemed demanding, incessant and whining, like a child wanting something. He was stubborn and loud, that was for sure. He had no problem using his resources, but Mason also had no problem using his. He was the direct challenge of his family's morality. 

Disgustingly human. 

Adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves and putting his phone away, he let his hand glide along and click to the ground floor. Despite what the devil on his shoulder whispered about, he was a Gleeful. A Gleeful doesn't go back on a deal unless it no longer benefits them. For now, Cipher was a benefit.

* * *

The place that the blond had chosen was another bank on the other side of Gravity Falls. Unlike the one he first picked Cipher up at, this one was much bigger, aged and detailed. Large pillars made of stone framed the outdoors, with long staircases and gargoyles that went on the outside. The doorway was made of glass, with gold detailing to frame the entryway. It was much more of the cityside rather than the town of Gravity Falls. It was more populated, with some foot traffic here and there, and cars in abundance to get around. 

Mason sat in his car, with the meter maid well paid and sitting in the driver seat. This place was definitely bigger, and Mason suspected higher security, but he couldn't be sure. This wasn't exactly his level of expertise. So, he had parallel parked at the front, tapping his fingers against the faux leather steering wheel, chewing on the inner corner of his cheek and foot-tapping on the flooring. 

He could be relaxing currently, leaned back in his chair, maybe do some more reading before Cipher got this show on the road and he would need to speed off once more. But he couldn't. Adrenaline was stirring in his veins, even with sitting here. It thrummed in his heart, gently pushed in his skull, and settled down in his gut, making his nerves all types of jumpy; ready to kick into action. 

Why he was feeling like this, he had no clue. It wasn't like he was the one stealing, and yet it seemed he was getting the second hand of the drug. Just the thought of his foot pressing on the gas, with sirens ringing in his ears and the sharp turns his car could do was oddly enthralling, even if extremely dangerous and not good for the vehicle. It was strange to be hooked on such a drug he had never experienced, and only had once. It was like a crack addict, scratching their neck and demanding more of their supply, more of what made them feel alive. 

Soon, a loud bell rang into the air, sounding like a fire alarm in an old fashioned school. Cipher had burst out, and out came a woman beside him. He recognized her to be the same one he saw before, with the fluorescent dyed hair and promiscuous clothing. They both were giggling amongst themselves, holding large duffle bags, certainly filled with cash, and running down the stone steps toward him. 

The blond came up at his passenger, clicking a button to push the chair forward so the pink-haired woman could hop in the back before he pushed the chair back and got in. Before the two had even buckled in, his nerves had enacted and his foot was stomped into the gas. The car he had cut ahead of honked loudly in protest and slammed on their break, but he honestly could give less of a fuck. 

"I didn't know you were bringing company," he found himself commenting, his tone coming off as snide. His eyes remained trained on the road, but even then he could hear the hearty laugh that the blond let out from the passenger, along with the click and fizz of a drink being opened before sipping. He hummed before replying sharply with, "Didn't think it would bother you." 

The conversation ends there, and Mason continues to occasionally flex his fingers. As much as he is good at going through the alleyways, he would prefer not to do it on this side of the city. Although they lead like mazes much like the one, they are much more narrow, making it difficult to fit a car, even one as sleek as his, through. There is a chance of hitting the bumper if he goes through from how the car turns, its at high risk for it. 

Luck doesn't seem to be on his side, and the neon, bright lights of the police are flashing in his rearview mirror sooner than he'd like them to be. It's not like he could take the freeway or highway like this, they could easily block off an exit or have all the cars stop. He was hoping that getting a headstart would promptly leave the authorities in the dust, but it doesn't seem that the police force agrees. 

Taking in a deep breath, he places his hand on the stick shift, tensing up his body as he skims along for an alleyway "This could get really rough really quickly." he stated, his voice firm and strong in such a tense situation. Neither Bill or the woman questions him, and he can hear the firm click of both their respective seatbelts being clicked into place. His heart is beating in his ears, his gut nonexistent with all the knots spiraling within and he wants to reel and try not to vomit his guts out. 

Holding his breath, he turns the shift and turns the wheel as hard as he could. He manages to make it into the alleyway. 

But, he cannot deny the large thud that follows in his back, how his car tries to spin out of his control, but the shift and his turning skills allow him to keep it straight without further damaging his front or rearview mirrors.

Just as he suspected would happen, he got a dent. His body immediately wants to reel forward from the force of the hit, but the seatbelt promptly cuts that off, stealing his breath away all at once and making him want to gag. His head jolts, almost hitting onto the top of his steering wheel with the force, but he manages to snap it back into place before it could. His hands have tightened to the point his knuckles are whitening against the thing, and he can hear the groans and jolty movements from the blond and the pink-haired woman, the bags slamming down to rest on the flooring of the car. 

It takes everything in Mason's mental power not to immediately try and pull over and access the damage. He shouldn't be driving with it, it's like holding up a sign that says 'Yeah, I just was the getaway driver in a mass robbery, what are you gonna do about it?" he reframes from doing so. He lets his hands numb from the death grip, his head is spinning and his vision is a little shaky. A heat flash is going over him, making his palms sweaty and under the starchy material feel horrible. But, he keeps his foot down in that strong, tense silence that fills the damaged car. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated! They keep me writing :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of Mason's precious car is dented. So, to get the beauty repaired, he has to visit his Great-Uncles and Best-friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fight Falls Dipper and Mabel show up in this chapter and are referred to as Tyrone and Jen (I see different versions of the characters being named differently. Reverse Falls has Mason and Will so on so forth). The original creator of Fight Falls is TanoSans96 on Tumblr. I personally have different headcanons for the characters models in Fight Falls, so the description I provide will reflect that. If you want to see the original designs of the characters, there will be a link placed at the start of the chapter that goes to the creator's account, as I am still not fancy enough to put it in the notes.

[Tanosans96 Tumblr](https://tanosan96.tumblr.com/)

* * *

The crackles of fallen branches and leaves crunched underneath the weight of the car as it slowly rolled up and onto the lot of the abandoned warehouse. The drive up had been slow and steady. As the adrenaline drained from Mason's veins, he had to take a moment to truly process what had happened on his pursuit across town. Last week he made a deal with a gang leader to give them drives in exchange for a date for his parent's dumb party to spite them. He's already done two of those said heists and just dented his car in the rear. Because of the fucking criminal, he was basically smuggling, he couldn't pull over to access the damage. 

_Great_ , _just fucking perfect_. 

Once his body caught up with his brain, he had ripped the seatbelt off his torso, shoving the door open and getting out of the car. He moved with purpose to get to the back of the vehicle, whilst the two criminals jumped out leisurely and giggled along while taking their earnings inside the warehouse. The brunet could give less of a damn about them at the moment. He had to make sure his car was okay- he had just gotten it for christ's sake. If he had to go to his uncle's shop then they would be suspicious, and he would prefer not to have such a conversation with them. 

Though luck was not on Mason's side, and the damage was worse than he expected or hoped it to be. What he prayed was just a small dent that could be fixed, ended up being a busted light. Baby blue paint was harshly scraped off, showing the original silver exterior. Part of the car looked like a crushed up soda can with how it scrapped and gathered.

He carefully ran his hand across the damage, letting out a groan as he slowly laid his head against the trunk. "Fuck me, Ford is gonna give me an earful," he rubbed his face against it, hugging himself against the car. This thing was his pride and joy, his first very fancy car that was specifically tailored for him to fit in, have all the control at his fingertips, and as many safety measures embedded as possible. This thing was supposed to-hopefully-last longer than two weeks with his good driving, but fate was taking the wheel, and it seemed to have the desire to total his car. 

With a sigh, he took a step back and stared at the damage for a while longer, letting it sink in that he had hurt his precious. The CEO took out their phone and snapped a photo of the damage, not only to solidify the guilt of the first dent on his expensive car but also to send Tyrone a photo and ask if he could make the repairs. 

He did a slow walk of shame back to the driver's seat, letting himself slump into the leather interior and stare up at the ceiling of the car. Mason was going to have to call his uncles and see if they could do the emergency repairs, but for now, he really wanted to rest in his dread. Damaging expensive things was definitely not on his list of things he enjoyed. To damage, something like this was in his mind, unforgivable. 

As his uncles worked at a car dealership, he had spent most of his Highschool years there. He was able to test drive assortments of vehicles that came in on the daily, and even ones that weren't on sale yet. Some of his fondest memories were in fast cars that he could feel the thrum in his seat. From the kick of a Mustang or Charger, so this was just insulting.

As the brunet wallowed, his door was opened, clicking into place to stay ajar. Icy blue eyes roamed up a well-built figure of tan skin and black swirling tattoos, getting to the face of the elusive blond.

 _Or_ , as Mason's head supplied, _the fuckhead who is responsible for my car getting in this situation._

"What the fuck do you want, Bill?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest while giving a defiant huff. Cipher was grinning from ear to ear, the duffle bag no longer resting over his shoulder. His honey eyes reflected deviance, as cogs seemed to turn in his brain of some sick plot. Though the brunet wasn't sure what the gang member could possibly be thinking while looking him over. He knew it couldn't be anything good when it came to the bastard who pointed a gun at his forehead when they first met.

The male's foot penetrated the safe, silently established barrier of the car to outdoors, moving to press against the latch on the seat. Mason could hear the soft click, and almost immediately the chair was trying to fall back to his weight to as low as it could go. He tried to counteract it by sitting more forward, but russet hands suddenly pushed him down against the faux leather and with the seat still being movable, he shot back until it hit against the one behind it. 

It clicked in place quickly before the criminal was over Mason's body, between his goddamn legs with that plastered smirk. The CEO's mind was railing at a hundred miles per hour, struggling to keep up with the sight before him in a sane manner. He had found Cipher attractive from the start afterall, it was what made him swipe right on his profile on Tinder, but it was easy to ignore attraction at a distance. The blond sitting in passenger was a good enough distance for Mason to keep his eyes on the road, and frankly away from gawking at chiseled muscles. 

Though, there wasn't much viable distraction material when the view he was trying to ignore was inches over his face. He could feel his and Bill's body heat start to meld together, and whatever cologne was sprayed on filled his nose like some sick drug. It made Mason's head feel foggy in man musk, and even as his hands pressed against Ciphers' chest, he truly had no motivation to try and push him away at that moment. 

Bill's lips were thinner compared to Masons, yet soft. As they pressed into the brunets, he found himself analyzing each sensation as they melded together in a swirl of lust. The male's nose would occasionally brush against the corner of his. He could feel slow, soft inhales and exhales tickle across his skin the longer they stayed there.

There was no objection when he moved his hands away from Bill's chest. As they roamed up the skin he could feel the lining of scars, the difference between the bumped out ink from his tattoos from the normal amber epidermis. It all was strangely euphoric and surprisingly gentle. He never expected such a bulky guy who could probably crush him with his arms to have such a tender touch against him. One of his legs had even slipped out of the car, hovering just barely over the dirt and gravel floor, but never fully reaching it. 

As Mason's hands started to tussle and comb through messy locks of blond and black rooted hair, he started to actually take in some awareness of the situation. Although this was extremely nice for someone who had been deprived recently of a fix from a man, he was doing this in a car. As his other foot pushed against the dash, sometimes pressing to the edge of the wheel, he came to the full circle realization that this was _his_ car, a beauty that had already been tarnished. 

A wet smack echoed out as he pulled away, putting his hands back against the criminals chest and finally putting pressure against it to make Bill lighten up "Get off," he demanded, his eyes scrutinizing. 

It took a moment for Bill to blink back into reality, but once he had, he definitely seemed disappointed. Amber eyes narrowed in response initially, lip pouting out like a toddler as he retorted with "C'mon Macey, you were into it. What, don't wanna get dicked by someone with a criminal record?" 

Mason huffed in response, giving another harder push against the male, feeling the flex of muscles underneath his fingertips "I don't have a problem with anyone with a criminal record. My problem is fucking in MY car. I already have to fix the back, I would prefer not to add the interior with it."

The blond let out another groan, but he did relent. Luckily, his morals didn't align with doing something nonconsensual, which Mason felt quite grateful for at the moment. 

"God, you're so lame," Cipher added, finally moving out. The brunet was able to press the button and put his seat back up, scoffing at the pouting felon as he crossed his arms back up "You buy yourself a practically million dollar car and then tell me you wouldn't want to screw it over. I refuse to eat, drink, or have sexual intercourse in this vehicle." the male let out a groan in response before shaking himself out of the funk, a tan hand going to blond hair and ruffling it up.

The conversation hits a dead end there, with Cipher walking back inside the warehouse and Mason texting Tyrone the photo of the damage and awaiting his response back.

* * *

The Two Stans Autobody Repair, Rental, and Carlot was everything Mason still remembered as a child. The neat set of cars all perfectly aligned for easy viewing to interested buyers. The large, grey building not too far away that he recalled being filled with office space and some brand new cars to sit in front of big windows. Off to the side stood a smaller space, with garage doors that were left open all day to let cars drive in and out for their ordered repairs. 

As he drove past all the neatly, parked vehicles up on clear display for people to walk around and examine, he could feel a mix of nostalgia and dread wind itself into his gut. 

He could remember the days of working on the property. For the most part, he had test-driven and watched over all the paperwork and files that came along the purchasing and insurance of the different clients his uncles took in. He rarely took over the actual floor of talking to people. his great-uncles knew he resented it. It drove him insane to see people bite their nails, twirl their hair, anything that showed signs of being remotely alive. So, they kept him away from basic society, sometimes making him work on the organization in the repair shop, where he would spend that time talking to Tyrone while he worked. 

The dread was mainly forming to have to even attempt to explain what happened. He didn't exactly know how to explain that he made a deal with a criminal-go figure. Even with his back up scenario, his family and close friend were good at reading if he was hiding something. Although he could completely deadpan to everyone else, Stan, Ford, and Ty always could see a little more behind his glazed pupils.

Mason parked off to the side of the repair shop, hoping to at least try to avoid his great uncles a bit. He prayed they were busy and wouldn't be able to examine the damage.

Though, the world made it clear this wasn't going to be his day. The moment he had pulled up there was Ford, having Tyrone walking beside him and coming along to check what had happened. The brunet let out a groan, letting his head briefly lull back against the chair before he begrudgingly pulled off his seatbelt and got out to greet the two. 

"Jesus Christ, Mason! How on Earth did you get this?" the moment that Ford even glanced at the busted headlight and screwed over paint, he was horrified. His voice seemed shocked, and as he ran his hand across the scrapped up exterior, he was most certainly suspicious. The greying male looked at his nephew accusingly, almost suspecting someone else must've crashed the car.

"Relax, Ford. I just backed up wrong and someone ended up T-boning me. It's nothing you can't fix," The excuse fell from his lips seamlessly as Mason waved his hand in dismissal. Part of his job was being a compulsive liar, he could play the part to make it seem like it wasn't even his fault and get the old man off his case. Though, judging by his expression, it wasn't going to be dropped so quickly.

The old man let out a sigh, pulling his glasses off to clean them off before pushing them back against the bridge of his nose. He looked back at the damage, crossing his arms and shaking his head. "I'm almost positive this car has a safety module to brake the car if there is someone driving towards it at a high enough speed. This doesn't exactly look like something you could get with a light amount of force, Mason." 

Mason huffed, shrugging at his uncle with a level of adult defiance before replying smoothly, "Exactly. The module enacted when I was pulling out and stopped right in the middle of the parking lot. The bitch wasn't paying attention and wacked into me." 

"Are you planning to sue?" the old man pressed on, pushing back some of his hair to not stick to his sweaty forehead. His uncle Ford always looked a little younger than his twin, Stan. His hair was cut with nothing to go on the sides and spiked up at the top with gel to keep it away. Five o'clock shadows went across the bottom of his face, almost looking charred with the deep color, with big eyebags to match the old genius' exhaustion.

"No reason to. It's nothing too horrible, and I knew that it wouldn't be too hard for you guys to get done, even if I'll need a rental while you get the paint fixed." 

Ford stared into his nephew's eyes for a few, tense moments. He was trying to see if he was lying or not, or even in some way was fibbing the truth to not admit how the car actually got its damage. His own, sapphire blue eyes narrow and turned stern, like a mother who had just scolded their child. Though Mason kept calm and collected, and soon the staring contest ceased with the brunet winning, his great uncle waving his arm while telling Tyrone to get it in the shop. 

"Geez, the old man can still get intense like that, huh? I don't think I've seen him pull a face like that since we use to run away to all those midnight clubs in Highschool," the blond chuckled, lightly hitting Mason's shoulder to snap him out of his tense complex. 

Tyrone was only a few inches taller than Mason, like many would when standing beside the short man. His hair was a messy, platinum blond, resembling the look of a twig made birds nest with all the parts of it that stuck up from car oil and just a lack of maintenance. The only thing that seemed to even slightly organize the bush was the big, goggles that rested on his head that he wore when working that Stan always swore made him look like a bug. His face lacked any sort of the color of blushing or freckles, aside from the few beauty marks that were above his lips and across his forehead. Being out in the sun all day gave his once pale complexion a sun-kissed look, and his hazel eyes were much softer, like some sweet grandma that would bake cookies for their grandchildren.

The brunet rolled his eyes, gently rubbing the hit place with a sort of sarcasm to lace his features "Ah, yes. You mean the parties that YOU dragged me out to all the time. You were such a damn nuisance for the student council back in the day, you know that? The principal was ready to expel you three different times." The blond chuckled, taking Mason's keys and getting into the driver seat, rolling down the window to continue their conversation. "Well, you were such a lameo back in the day. All uptight and shit, glad I got to loosen you up a little, made you more fun at least," 

The two continued to talk while Ty slowly rolled the car past the garage doors and into the repair shop. There was a specific place for him to park, so the wheels could be locked in place to not make the vehicle start rolling down the road, along with a large compress at the bottom that could suspend the car into the air for easier access to the bottom.

Once it was all checked out and secured, Tyrone started to walk all along the autobody, checking off things from a clipboard that needed to be repaired for the car to be back in perfect condition. Even with it being brand new, he even took the time to check the oil and make sure the tire pressure was all mostly even. It was all standard procedure, and soon enough he had walked over to a computer to set up the rental for Mason to use while the car would be fixed for the following remainder of the week. 

As the keys were held out to the brunet to take, the blond's expression seemed a bit worried. "You know, Mason, if something actually did happen that made your car get wrecked, you can tell me. I saw the news and there was a model like yours that was part of some robbery. I'm not blaming you or anything, I'm just saying that if my best bro joined a gang, I wanna be sure that I won't find him dead on the side of the road as if no one cares." 

Of course, Tyrone would be harder to convince. He had been there since Mason started to like a bit more danger in his life. He was the one to introduce it afterall, the first to have him meet the high of freedom. The blond was the one that stirred this need for someone dangerous, someone that could ruin every little part of his senses without even trying. Be the exact opposite of what others would exactly expect out of such a well-built person.

The brunet may not like human mannerisms, but there was something so fascinating about those kinds of urges. To be able to run out without a care, no need for safety, or worry about a thing. Those who could breathe and listen to those songs that even now seemed to quietly lull inside Masons head like a forbidden lullaby but rather be invited to such adrenaline. 

He was the one that made that desire to feel his head tingling from the level of blood rush going through, have his heart pulsing in his chest like an intense drum, and stomach to knot up until it felt as though he would never need to eat with such great highs to fulfill every need he could ever have. 

And again, this was his second opportunity to ignore the calls. First, he could've just let Bill get caught by the police, go to his family's party and let this bashing of his character prosper, this broken relationship with his twin be all he would know even past retirement. And now, he could let Tyrone in. He wouldn't react too bad externally, but Mason knew as soon as he left that he would be on the phone with some local authorities to get the thief put behind bars for Mason's safety. 

He was in something dangerous, practically up to his knees in shit. If this went wrong, then maybe the police would find him with a triangular bullet mark in the center of his forehead, laid out and used by the criminal. No one would find that abandoned warehouse and Cipher would leave innocent, still living that high, grinning in satisfaction to his victory for the years to come. This could go wrong in so many ways for him.

And yet, his pride kept his mouth silent. 

Because, what could possibly be more invigorating than being able to beat a criminal mastermind at his own game? 

So, he flashed a rare smile and pat his friend's shoulder, taking the keys with the other "Don't worry about it, Ty. In not stupid, I wouldn't do something like that. Nothing like that is gonna happen to me." Tyrone gave a sigh of relief, pulling his friend into a tight hug, his head resting against his shoulder "Good, you fucking asshole. If you do end up like that, I promise I will perform some necromancy to bring you back. I would prefer not to lose my best friend." 

Mason let out a soft laugh, patting his friends back slowly as the smell of car paint and rust seemed to always be stuck to Tyrone's clothes. His friend's wild card life had settled into something much more calming, he no longer chased the high. He settled into a tranquil life, working for his great uncles and letting his expertise in engineering get its use.

His friend was satisfied, but Mason was still starving for more. 


End file.
